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She examined him critically in the poor light. To her he was a hero, her savior, but if she looked at him as a frightened young girl might . . . well, she supposed he could seem rather alarming with his scarred face. Suddenly it was important to her that they know the real man.
“Hush, girls,” she soothed. “Lord Southbrook will not hurt you. He’s a friend and he will help you. He-he has a seven-year-old son called Eustace, and a castle that is falling down, and Violet cooked for him because he couldn’t find anyone else who could cook nearly as well as her.”
He blinked. Averil bit her lip. Her description probably wasn’t quite what he would have imagined for himself, but it seemed to do the trick. Violet was also reassuring them and, with a smile to Averil, she finally led the girls out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“The police have arrived,” Rufus said, once he and Averil were alone. “Sally and Jackson have been arrested. I have to get back. Will you be all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said softly. And then, in a rush, “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t arrived when you did. How did you know I was here?”
He explained, but she hardly heard his words. She was watching his face, listening to the timbre of his voice, taking in the whole lovely package that was the wicked earl of Southbrook. And she knew, with an ache in her chest, that despite what had happened at the castle, she hadn’t stopped loving him. Not at all.
She was giving him that direct look. For a moment he was disconcerted by her scent, the sweet womanly smell of her that had haunted him for so many lonely days and nights. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, because she smiled, her gaze dropping, her dark lashes sweeping down.
He thought about giving her a speech about rushing into danger and frightening him, or perhaps he could suggest that next time she be less impulsive? But he discarded both ideas. She’d only get cross with him and that was the last thing he wanted right now.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said instead.
She glanced up at him then away again. She smoothed her sleeve. “I-I didn’t know you were back in London. Did you bring Hercules?”
He was confused. Had James been right and she’d left the dog behind so that he could follow? “No. As far as I know Hercules is happily ensconced at the castle with Eustace.”
“How is Eustace?” she asked, smoothing her other sleeve.
Rufus raised an eyebrow, wondering where this c
onversation was going and whether he really had time for it with the police waiting upstairs. But he was reluctant to leave her. “Eustace is well. That monster you left for him is eating us out of house and home, and destroying every cushion in the castle, but as long as Eustace is happy . . .”
She laughed softly, a breathless sound that made his senses jump up another notch. “Good,” she said. “Rufus, I think I might have been—”
But whatever she was about to confess was interrupted.
“Lord Southbrook?” It was Violet, calling down the stairs. “There’s an inspector here who wants to speak with you.”
Rufus gave an impatient sigh. “I have to go,” he said, “but I’m not leaving you here to get yourself into more trouble.”
“I have to go to the Home and settle the girls,” she said briskly, and their intimate moment was gone. They started up the stairs, and she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Fancy Violet being Sally’s daughter,” she whispered, not wanting the girl to overhear.
Rufus wondered about that himself, but he didn’t have time to reply. The inspector was waiting and when next he had time to glance around him, Averil was gone.
Once back at the Home, they found room for their new arrivals. Surprisingly, Molly took them under her wing, showing a gentle side to her nature Averil had never seen before, and Violet was soon in the kitchen preparing hot soup.
That was where Violet told her story, in between setting out bowls and crusty bread, and comforting the girls.
“I grew up at The Tin Soldier. Sally let me do mostly what I wanted, and what I wanted was to stay out of the way of the customers, so I spent my time in the kitchen. There were always cooks coming and going, so I learned to do most of the cooking for the customers.”
“I remember you said you were used to cooking for many,” Averil said.
Violet smiled. “I was.”
“But . . . well, you don’t speak like Sally. You must have been educated at some point, Violet?”
“I went to one of the church schools. The teacher was good at what he did, and he saw in me someone who could ‘rise above her station,’ as he used to say. And Sally helped. Whenever one of her gamblers owed her money, she’d find out if he had some talent she could get him to teach me. You’d be amazed the types who pass through The Tin Soldier. There were artists who taught me to paint, and dancing masters who taught me to dance, and a posh lady who’d fallen on hard times, who taught me to sew. That was the way they paid off their debts.”
She grimaced. “But then it changed. Sally began to set up her houses of pleasure.”
Pleasure probably wasn’t the word Averil would have used.
“Jackson wanted me to come here to the Home, and he persuaded Sally that I would be able to keep an eye on things. Sally pretends Jackson is her creature, but I think she listens to him more than she lets on.”
